


Hate/Love

by DJ_Punch_Detective



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Grumpy Old Men, Love Confessions, M/M, Oral Sex, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, This Is STUPID, blowjob, i love it, i love them, i wrote a sonnet for this fucking fic, look - Freeform, this is my rarepair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 21:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8506612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJ_Punch_Detective/pseuds/DJ_Punch_Detective
Summary: Megatron and Ratchet work out their differences by fucking, and then catch feelings for each other





	1. Hate

“I hate you.”

The gunmetal mech looked over at the medic, raising an optic ridge.  Ratchet was just inside the door of the medbay, where Megatron was waiting for his daily ration of fool’s energon.  For a few moments they just stared at each other, Ratchet’s pure blue optics glaring at Megatron while Megatron’s red optics looked at Ratchet, looking more tired than anything else.

“That’s not really a surprise.”  Megatron replied, rubbing his optics before looking at the medic again.  “Can we just get this over with?”

“Because Mr. I-wanted-to-be-a-medic hates medbays.”  Ratchet countered before handing Megatron the ration.  Megatron snorted in response, both mechs knew full well why he didn’t like being in the medbay but Megatron let Ratchet have that quip.  Grimacing, the ex-Decepticon swallowed down the ration as fast as possible before handing it back.

“Why do you hate me, anyway?”

“Frag off.”

The next day had almost the same conversation in it, as did the next, but Ratchet seemed to be slowly getting bolder around Megatron... as did the rest of the crew.  It was all rather irritating, and he had taken to either going to his hab to close his optics and tell himself exactly why he couldn't just tear them all limb from limb.  As the irritation became more frequent, Megatron found himself trying to find any place quiet enough to give himself a few moments of peace.

"I really hate you."

He looked over at the voice to see Ratchet.  Currently he was sitting in a supply closet to give himself enough room to think, and Megatron smirked slightly.  Of course the medic would be the one to open the door and find him sitting in the dark across from a shelf with a fist-shaped dent in it.

"Can I help you, Ratchet?"  Megatron asked, hoping the medic had enough tact not to ask him why he was sitting alone in a dark room.

"Yeah.  Pass me that box."  Ratchet said, pointing at the one he needed and Megatron got it.

"Why do you hate me?"  Megatron asked as he handed the box over, and actually got some form of answer this time.

"Why do you think?"

It took a week for Megatron to come up with an answer that he found satisfactory, and in that time the ex-warlord found himself grinding his denta slightly at the thought of the medic.  Ratchet might have been one of the oldest mechs on the ship, including himself and Rung, but he was the only one who constantly complained, and was the only mech regardless of age that gave Megatron sass that was actually effective.  At first, Megatron thought he was starting to hate Ratchet back... but he realized it was something else when he went to talk, actually talk, to Ratchet.

"I know why you hate me."  Megatron said quietly, and Ratchet scoffed. 

"What, you think there's an actual reason?"  The old medic asked, looking at Megatron with a sarcastic light in his optics that clearly just said 'frag off'.

"You hate me because of what I did.  What I stand for now."  Megatron said, smiling for a split second when he saw Ratchet pause.  He had his attention.  "You hate me because what I started destroyed everything you had.  You hate me because I tore down your world with my war, took away everyone you ever loved or cared about... either by their sparks getting snuffed out in battle, joining my- the Decepticons, getting lost in space... whatever happened.  You hate me because I caused everything you hate in this world, either directly or indirectly... and you know what?"

Megatron took a good long pause to look at Ratchet, who was silent and glaring at him and clearly paying close attention to every word that crossed his lips from his vox.  "I don't blame you.  You have every right to hate me, but while you do, just know that I'm envious of you for the same reason.  I stand for everything that you hate, and you - forged, medic, an Autobot by choice and not agreement, loved - that is everything, everything I wanted to be.  All I ever wanted to be."

As he spoke, the gap between the two of them closed, the force of Ratchet’s anger and hate rolling off of him as Megatron spoke, metaphorically bearing his spark to the medic.  They glared at each other for a few moments longer before Megatron dipped his helm as Ratchet rose up to his toes to mash their faceplates together in a very angry kiss.  Glossas forced past lips and denta tore into mesh as two old frames clanked together and one was backed into the wall.  

Megatron broke the kiss by headbutting Ratchet, panting and wiping a dribble of energon off of his lip, optics smouldering with a confusing mix of emotions.  Ratchet,  _ Ratchet _ , had managed to push him back against the wall without much effort and bite a leak into his lip.  A slow smile spread across his face as he bent down to kiss Ratchet again, and was rewarded with another forceful kiss for his efforts.  Ratchet’s optics still burned with hatred, and he grabbed Megatron’s hips before grinding against the larger of the two.

For a few moments, there was silence in the medbay except for whirring fans and panting before Ratchet reached up to tug Megatron’s helm down lower.  Once again, the strength of the old medic surprised him and he was forced to lean over as lip plates touched his cheeks, his helm… and then a low growl escaped him.  Once more their optics met and Ratchet’s grip tightened.

“I want you to frag me.”  Ratchet snarled, red-orange paint scraping off of his digits and onto Megatron as he instinctively stood up, startled.  The gunmetal mech covered his mouth, embarrassed by the intensity of emotion Ratchet was showing as Ratchet held his other hand, tugging him forward.

“I thought you said you hated me.”  Megatron said, internally wincing at the uncharacteristic crack in his voice when he spoke again.  “And now you want me to interface with you?”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”  Ratchet snorted.  “As much as I hate admitting it, you're an attractive mech.  You just so happen to also be the cause of everything I love falling apart.”

“I don’t like interface without reason.”  Megatron growled slightly.  “Not anymore.  I’m not who I used to be.”

“And changing the way you frag is going to help that?”  Ratchet asked with a playful smirk before tugging Megatron’s arm again.  “You are wound so tightly I wouldn’t be surprised if you snapped.  Take the opportunity to blow off some steam in a safe way.”

Megatron stared at Ratchet for a moment before giving in and letting the medic pull him into a side room to the medbay.  A quick glance around revealed it as an isolation room almost specifically designed for dealing with mecha in advanced stages of heat cycles, and Megatron relaxed.  This was a safe room - soundproof and free of cameras, unlike the rest of the Lost Light.  He slowly began yielding to Ratchet’s touches and kisses, the lack of sensitivity in his frame more than made up for by Ratchet’s experience and clever digits.  A moan escaped him as Ratchet dipped his digits into the seams in his hips, toying with some of his few exposed wiring that he had.  This was ridiculous.   _ He  _ was the ex-Decepticon.   _ He  _ was the one who held command over thousands of warriors.   _ He  _ was the one who had fought in Kaon for his very spark and the right to his own frame… so why was  _ Ratchet  _ the one dominating him like this?  Why was he  _ letting _ him?  

A click pulled Megatron from his thoughts, and a shaky gasp escaped him as Ratchet’s hand slid over his now-exposed array.  Those experienced hands slid over his valve and up to his barely-pressured spike and Megatron’s audials must’ve glitched because he heard Ratchet  _ tsk _ at the sight.  He was about to demand if something was wrong when Ratchet’s lips wrapped around the tip and he began to bob on the tip while teasing the rest of it, trying to tease the rest of his spike out of its housing.  Only a few moments of speechlessness followed this, and Megatron spread his legs a little further apart and leaned back with a smirk.

“Is it traditional Autobot practice to suck the spike of your sworn enemies?”  Megatron asked Ratchet before almost convulsing as the medic’s denta closed down on his spike, the very understandable yelp of pain escaping him before Ratchet pulled away.

“Is it traditional  _ Decepticon _ practice to give lip to the person sucking your spike?”  Ratchet asked as Megatron shuddered as the slight damage was soothed back into pleasure by those perfect hands.

“I hate you.”

“It’s mutual.”

Lip-plates met interface array and Megatron covered his optics with one hand, groaning softly as Ratchet continued to tease him to full pressure.  It had been a very long time since Megatron had received any sort of intimate touch, even from his own hands.  He had turned down Rodimus’ teasing offers, any others were too  _ scared _ of him to even consider him a target for interface, he didn’t have the time to self-service when he had a ship to run, and Megatron was having a hard time keeping quiet as Ratchet bobbed over his spike.  Groans were escaping Megatron’s frame and he audibly whined when Ratchet pulled away, only to have a hand placed on his lips.

“Quiet you big baby.”  Ratchet purred, sliding into Megatron’s lap and grinding his valve against the ex-warlord’s spike before reaching down to guide the tip in.  Megatron opened his mouth to speak, and Ratchet pushed his digits inside to keep him from talking.  What he didn’t expect was for Megatron to blush and begin licking the two digits as his optics smoldered.  Ratchet didn’t know Megatron well enough to pick through all the emotions hidden in that glow, but he had looked into enough optics to recognize the confusing mixture of hate and lust that were in his crimson optics.

One buck of his hips and Megatron was seated in Ratchet’s valve, but the digits had left his mouth and the medic’s hand struck the side of his faceplate with a resounding smack.  Megatron sat in stunned silence for a few moments as Ratchet began to move, slow due to age but still with that unexpected strength that the medic had been displaying.  The sting in his cheek was soothed with Ratchet's kisses and touches before the medic let Megatron take his hands again.  As Ratchet slowly rocked against him, Megatron began to kiss the medic's hand - wrist, palm, thumb, the tips of each digit before a gentle squeeze and putting it against his cheek.

"What are you doing?"  Ratchet asked, a deep blush on his cheeks.  He wasn't going to admit that what Megatron was doing felt good, at least not while he was on his spike.  "I haven't washed my hands in quite some time.  You don't even know what I could've put them in."

"You're a terrible liar."  Megatron informed Ratchet as he began kissing the other hand and toying with the seams and sensors on the old medic's hands as a moan escaped him.  Ratchet pulled his hands away and stopped Megatron's taunting with his mouth, forcing his glossa inside of the other mech's mouth.  Megatron started fighting for dominance again, but Ratchet responded by rolling his hips roughly against him, getting a muffled moan out of the ex-warlord.  After a few moments, Ratchet pulled away and smacked Megatron again.  They glared at each other as Ratchet's valve fluttered around Megatron's spike before they both started moving in earnest - kissing angrily as Ratchet was kept mostly in place by Megatron’s hands.

The clanks of their frames and whirring fans was the only sound for a while, punctuated by the occasional moan, growl, or grunt.  Megatron was slowly gaining control over the situation, holding Ratchet still as he rolled his hips upward into him.  A small smile was forming on his faceplate as he watched Ratchet got closer to his overload, knowing he was the one making Ratchet lose control.  Carefully, Megatron let his hands slide over Ratchet’s frame, plucking at exposed wiring and rubbing transformation seams.  The medic sped up, rutting against Megatron’s spike as he was caressed by the ex-Decepticon’s large hands - a gasp escaping him as one of Megatron’s hands wrapped around Ratchet’s spike, letting his motions slide the member through his grip.  Ratchet protested with weak threats and swears as he went limp on Megatron’s chest - overload rippling through his frame as a few spurts of transfluid came from the tip of his spike and onto Megatron’s hand.  He whined as Megatron stroked him through it, milking what transfluid he could out of Ratchet’s spike before pulling out of Ratchet’s valve.

“Ngh… What the hell was all that kissing?”  Ratchet panted, looking up at Megatron.  “Don’t tell me you’re finished without an overload.”

“You said not to change how I frag.”  Megatron replied, turning Ratchet around and pulling him onto his lap before pushing a digit against his mouth.  “Clean my hand.”

“What?”  Ratchet spluttered, flinching away from his own transfluid.  “Clean it yourself!  Disgusting old Decepticon.”

“Not anymore…”  Came the purred response, slightly sharp denta nipping at a neck cable as Ratchet gave in and licked Megatron’s hand clean, listening to the ex-warlord’s engine rev at each lick.

“You’re still disgusting and old.”  The medic grunted once Megatron moved his hand away, before getting pushed onto all fours as Megatron stood behind him and began guiding his spike back inside.  “Watch it!”

“What does that make you?”  Megatron asked, slowly beginning to roll his hips once more.  A smile crossed his lips when he heard Ratchet only groan in response before yelping when Megatron used his bulk to pin Ratchet down and began thrusting harder into him.  “Part of me wishes you could look at yourself, aft up and facedown on a berth while I frag your valve.  Do you like it when I pound you like this?”

Ratchet moaned loudly, clinging to the berth as it shook.  This is what he had pictured Megatron would do all along, he just hadn’t expected him to wear him out with an overload before taking control like this.  Not that the old medic was really complaining as his helm bumped against the berth with each of the ex-warlord’s thrusts - each of which tapped his already oversensitive ceiling node in a way that sent sparks crackling across his optics.  Megatron whispering in his audial… Reminding him whose spike it was sending waves through his frame, even though he had offlined his optics.  The first one had happened with optics off and processor focused on Optimus and his anger at Megatron, imagining that he was back with the red and blue Prime, and Ratchet honestly wondered if Megatron could be able to tell that he was thinking of someone else and that was why he was making sure Ratchet knew whose spike was making him come undone.

“You love it.”  Megatron purred, leaning over to nip Ratchet’s neck and pulling a whine out of the medic as his spike was pushed further on his ceiling node.  “You love how it feels to take my spike, but oh Primus how you hate it.  You love how it feels but you hate it’s me, don’t you?  You hate feeling these hands on your frame, teasing you to overload like this…”

Almost every word was punctuated with a hard thrust, and Ratchet was getting close to his second overload as Megatron neared his.  He could feel the spike twitch inside of him, and a loud moan escaped Ratchet when one of Megatron’s large hands reached down to roll his outer node between two digits, trying to force him to overload before him.  Weakly, Ratchet hit Megatron as he twitched and moaned before his overload hit, valve clenching down on and fluttering around Megatron’s spike until the ex-warlord gasped and had to pull out.  Megatron was shaking slightly as he finished himself with his hand, overloading onto Ratchet’s chest.

Silence fell, broken by whirring fans, heavy panting, and creaking joints as both mecha were reminded of their age.  Megatron stirred first from where he lay on top of Ratchet, slowly sitting up and getting a rag to start mopping the transfluid up.  Ratchet groaned and shut his optics, trying to ignore how agonizingly tender Megatron was being as he cleaned off his frame.  The silence persisted as Megatron cleaned himself off, finally broken when Ratchet onlined his optics to look at him.

“What the hell was that?”

“What do you mean?”  Megatron asked, legitimately confused.

“All the kissing and cleaning.”  Ratchet huffed.  “I thought you hated me.”

Megatron sighed and rubbed his optics.  “Remember, doctor, that I’m trying to - how does Rodimus put it - ‘Abandon my evil ways’.  That includes being more open.  That includes being gentle when every circuit in my body is screaming at me to break and tear.  That includes taking care of people that I let get close.  I’m still jealous of you, and I understand if you’re still mad at me… but I just can’t use someone for a quick frag anymore.  I can’t just leave someone exhausted and painted with transfluid when I know that no matter how  _ mad  _ they are at me, no matter how much they  _ hate  _ me, they would at least clean me up before leaving me alone.”

Ratchet fell silent.  He could see the bitterness in Megatron’s optics, the tension in his frame, and hear the pain in his voice.  Through the war, Megatron had to cultivate a persona of steely indifference, broken only by anger and hate.  Now… Ratchet had the sense that Megatron’s persona… his armor, his _shield_ , was starting to break down.

And he was scared.  Ratchet could tell that much.  Something had scared Megatron.  Something from inside his spark or mind that hadn’t been there before.  If Ratchet was the type to swear to Primus, he would do so to figure out exactly what had Megatron looking scared.


	2. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The feelings part

Ratchet frowned at the datapad he was reading.  It was basic medical information, but that wasn’t what he was thinking about, or why he was frowning.  Mostly he just needed to look busy while Rodimus grandstanded about something.  He wasn’t listening.  It had been about three weeks since he and Megatron had shared a lapse of judgement born from frustration and mutual anger, and since then the ex-warlord hadn’t even  _ looked _ at him, much less  _ spoken _ to him.  It was getting annoying, especially since he thought Megatron would’ve been more mature than that.  This wasn’t even irritation in not having a follow-up frag, which Ratchet didn’t even expect.  All he wanted was for Megatron to act like a Primus-be-damned adult and  _ talk to him _ .

Even so, he couldn’t fully blame Megatron for avoiding him.  He had told him he hated him, and Ratchet had shared enough berths to know it can be awkward if you  _ absolutely have _ to work with them… but that still didn’t change that Ratchet just wanted to talk with Megatron about what had happened.  Casual interface was a thing, and the old medic understood that - except something… something seemed different.  He sighed and rubbed his faceplate, tuning back into Rodimus’ speech to make sure he wasn’t missing anything important.

He wasn’t.

 

\------

 

“What’s troubling you?”

Megatron grunted and looked at Rung.  Of course the small mech would be able to tell something was bothering him.  Of course he would ask him about it during their court-mandated sessions, and of course he would simply be sitting there with a small smile and his legs crossed, waiting to see if Megatron would speak.  For a few moments, Megatron just stared at Rung before slowly sitting up and facing him.  Laying down made the height difference better, but Megatron preferred sitting if he was going to say something important.  He rubbed his hands together for a moment before speaking.

“I… Ratchet and I… interfaced.”  Megatron said haltingly, clearing his vox a few times and watching for Rung’s reaction.  The therapist was a little surprised, but he didn’t outwardly react other than a small nod.  Megatron sighed before continuing.  “I… I’m sure you don’t care about how it happened, or any of the details but-  He hasn’t spoken to me since it happened.  He won’t even look at me.”

Rung pursed his lips slightly as he thought.  Megatron was clearly anxious, rubbing his hands together and curling inward to himself - like he was trying to shield his spark chamber from a perceived threat.  One small orange hand brushed against the dark metal of Megatron’s hands, trying to get him to calm down.

“Try writing about it.”  Rung decided, offering Megatron a blank datapad.  A few tense moments passed before Megatron took it.

“I haven’t written since-”  Megatron started to say as he let his hand wrap around the datapad, before shaking his helm and standing.  “Thank you, Rung.”

 

\------

 

Rodimus was grinning at Ratchet as the medic wrote a report.  He continued to grin at him when the medic got up to set the datapad aside for now and get a glass from Swerve.  Even if it was a bit loud, Ratchet liked writing in Swerve’s - it was a nice enough environment, and if someone wanted to talk to him about something they were too embarassed about to ask during the day… he would always listen to them under the cover of the bar.  

This was not that kind of look.  This was a slag-eating grin that told Ratchet Rodimus had found something out and was either going to try and use it to coerce Ratchet into doing something or just boast about it and make fun of him for half an hour.  Ratchet seriously hoped it was the latter.  He could handle Rodimus spouting about something he had discovered.  What he could not handle was another leaked image of the 'Party Ambulance' or doing anything Rodimus wanted him to do.  Ratchet sighed through his nose and looked at Rodimus, very much a tired old mech.

"What do you want, Rodimus?"

"You fucked Megatron."  Rodimus said, smirk not leaving his faceplate when Ratchet panicked and covered his mouth with his hand.  A quick glance around the bar showed nobody had heard the captain, so Ratchet reluctantly lowered his hand to let him speak.  The smirk was still firmly in place.

"How did you find out?"  Ratchet asked, groaning when Rodimus squealed slightly.  "Don't draw attention to yourself!"

"Ratch, look at me."  Rodimus said, leaning back to display his gaudy paint job and the flames splashed across his chest.  "Look at me and tell me that again."

"Got it it's impossible for you to be discreet."  Ratchet huffed, glaring at him.  "But you didn't answer my question."

"I spied on Rung while Megatron was in there."  Rodimus told him with a dismissive hand wave.  "Megs told the nerd and how was it?"

"You spied on-  Rodimus!"  Ratchet spluttered.  "Do you realize how large of a breach of ethics that was?"

"Eh.  Not really.  Are you two a thing?  How long has this been going on?  How big is his spike?"  Rodimus rambled excitedly, and Ratchet rubbed his optics as the young Prime stopped asking questions.  “Wait… Have you even spoken to him since it happened?”

Ratchet looked away as Rodimus’ look of joy faded into one of disappointment and, Primus forbid, actual sadness.  He wasn’t sure why he cared why Rodimus was upset, but he didn’t want to see the captain’s optics large and watering for no reason other than he and Megatron had just had a one-night stand.  A few moments of quiet and shuffling, and Rodimus was in front of Ratchet, optics burning with determination.

That was a lot worse.

 

\------

 

When Rung had reached out for the datapad, Megatron instinctively held it back towards his chest.  Now they were both looking at each other a little awkwardly, Megatron embarrassed and Rung with a sympathetic smile.  Slowly, Megatron relaxed and looked down at the datapad.

“I… It’s too personal.”  Megatron said quietly.  “I understand that you’re my doctor and we should be able to share but - I can’t.  Not this.”

“You want Ratchet to be the only other person to read it.”  Rung said with a smile, laughing a little when Megatron spluttered in embarrassment and tried to deny it.  “It’s all right, Megatron.  You can let yourself feel.  You don’t have to isolate yourself.”

The instinctive response of ‘yes I do’ died in Megatron’s vox when shouting started outside of Rung’s office.  Both mecha waited for it to stop before continuing, Rung used to strange happenings on the Lost Light and Megatron at the point where he felt nothing that the young Autobots on board could do could surprise him anymore.  That turned out to be a false assumption when Rodimus forced the door open with a loudly protesting Ratchet in tow.  Rung’s spluttered protests were drowned out by Megatron letting a growl rip from his chest as he stood.

“Rodimus Prime what the  _ hell _ do you think you’re doing?!”  Megatron snapped, every inch the warlord he once was for a moment.  Rodimus didn’t flinch.  Rung hid behind his datapad.  Ratchet looked like he wanted to leave the Lost Light and float in space.

“Helping two old idiots!”  Rodimus snapped back, grabbing the datapad out of Megatron’s hand.  That was not something Megatron expected, and he sent a silent prayer to Primus that Rodimus would have more tact than to read it out loud at the top of his voice.  Rodimus opened his mouth like he was going to before pausing and looking at it.  “Okay wow.  This is… wow.”

He handed it to Ratchet and left.  Megatron felt like he had lost another few eons off of his life span and might die right there in the room.  Rung mostly looked confused and scared.  Ratchet had started to read the datapad.

 

\------

 

“You who have such strength of mind, body and spark -

A mecha that sets others worlds apart

With a rare smile that completely lights the dark

And makes medicine not science - but art.

 

I was scared at first, but now I am not.

With you I am whole, clinging tight to life

Grip tightened by a feeling I forgot

Lost after many long eons of endless strife

 

Love is new to me, so I ran away

I was filled with jealousy, fear, and hate

But that was the past and this is today

Something I must say; ‘fore it’s too late:

 

I think I love you, dearest Doctor

Somehow you have made my spark softer.”

 

Ratchet looked at Megatron, cooling fans clicking on.  They were in the empty medbay, much like the day, months ago now, that Ratchet had first told Megatron he hated them.  Ratchet knew that poem.  That was the stupid sonnet Megatron had written on Rung’s prompting during the weeks after they had their first interface.  It was… nice to hear it spoken, though.  This was probably how Megatron had intended it to be introduced towards Ratchet, not stolen by Rodimus and forced into his hands.

“I hate you.”  Ratchet said, all venom gone from his voice.  Megatron laughed and closed the distance between the two of them, stooping to give Ratchet a kiss.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> listen I love these grouchy old men


End file.
